Time Again
by ShadowsBladeRogue
Summary: It's been two years since Max and Monica have said farewell, and though Griffin is defeated, all is not well in the future. Her time decimated, Monica must make the ultimate choice: return to the past to right the wrong, or let time flow as it should.


**Time Again**

_A Dark Cloud 2 Fanfiction_

_Disclaimer: I do not, never have, ever will, own DC2, though I wish I did._

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Prologue

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How would one begin to describe defeat? Is it where you lay down your weapons and surrender, or when, no matter how hard you fight, how hard you struggle, you're simply pulled back down again and again until you can't stand anymore?

Monica laughed--a harsh, bitter sound. She'd go with the second one, herself. The resonance bounced off the tall, dead trees spanning the great lengths of the clearing. Monica glanced up with dead eyes at the sky, dark and gray with the oncoming downpour.

_A bit too late for that rain, don't you think?_

She had always been the pessimistic one, but this time she noted that her views were rather optimistic, given the situation. The redhead slowly pulled herself to her feet, the tip of the blade held limply in her right hand dragging through the brown and crumbling grass beneath her boots. Monica paced to the other end of the clearing with a sluggish gait, in no particular hurry to see what awaited her there, though she must have seen it a thousand times before at least. In the clump of dead and withered bushes were mounds of ash, still smoking heavily though the battle had been done for at least a week. Monica fell to her knees before it and gently cupped some of the cinders in her hands and holding it close to her battered face, the sword falling to the earth with a clatter. Her throat tightened as she looked upon the remains of the once great Jurak, and salty tears flooded her amethyst eyes. The girl sniffled and carefully deposited the powder back amongst the debris, wiping at her eyes with the back of her gloved hand.

When had it all gone so wrong?

Monica retrieved her Long Sword and stood once more, dusting off her knees through sheer habit and looking around. The air was still; the energetic tunes of the Firbits that once stirred the air were long gone, leaving Monica with only her gloomy thoughts.

How long had it been, now? Monica couldn't recall through the haze of her mind. She believed she had stopped counting around two years; for all she knew, it could have been ten. She shook her head, trying to clear the fuzziness away. Yes, it had been two years; two years since her adventure. A mirthless smile found its way to her lips.

A lot could change in such a short time. Her kingdom had been destroyed, obliterated in the wake of an unstoppable army the likes of which hadn't been seen since Griffin. It had begun with the day of her coronation; the crown had been not a sparse inch from resting atop her head when the first quake rocked the foundations of the castle. Her knights had fled from the room to defend against the assault, while the ladies of the court had grabbed Monica and tried to pull her away from the danger. Another laugh seized at the back of her throat, causing her to emit a hacking cough. They hadn't even let her fight for her people. Many—too many—had fallen during the castle siege, and Monica had been the only one she knew of to have escaped.

Everywhere she had gone since then had been the same; naught but a ruin and hills of ashes where once buildings and monuments stood. She had found no one alive, though Monica had not really been expecting to; in wars such as this not even the innocents were spared, she knew. Monica wondered how Max would react, should he ever discover his mother had been among those to have died in the beginning amidst the rampage of those horrible mechanical monsters. He probably wouldn't care. After all, she thought morbidly, the woman had abandoned him.

_You abandoned him, too, _a sly, conniving voice echoed from the back of her mind. _Does that mean you deserve your inevitable fate as much as she did?_

Monica had no answer to that. Instead, she cast one last glance around the remains of the once-Sindain and left the forest in the muddled and fading late afternoon light. She had no destination in mind, this time; there was nowhere to go. One last thought did come to her, however.

_Why, Max? Why?_

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A/N: I had the idea for this plot and decided to see what I could do with it. Constructive criticism very much appreciated, and don't worry if you're confused. You're supposed to be. :)**


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